To Boldly Go
by FantasyIslander65
Summary: A teen visits the 'Star Trek' universe, with surprising results. By request, an updated reposting for a crossover.
1. Chapter 1

**A/N:** _Some of you (Harry2, PDXWiz, jtbwriter, Bishop T in particular) will be familiar with these old tales; at the suggestion of PDXWiz, I'm resubmitting these two tales to a _Trek_ crossover category, with some updating and revision. For anyone who isn't familiar with my _Fantasy Island_ tales, welcome to my little universe! I'm borrowing lots of characters: thanks to Spelling and Goldberg for their completely unwitting loan of Roarke, Tattoo and Julie; and a posthumous thanks to Gene Roddenberry for use of Kirk, Spock, McCoy and Sulu. (I also made a reference in chapter 6 to a TOS-based novel, __Pawns and Symbols__ by Majliss Larson, who uses the characters of Kang and Mara from the TOS episode "Day of the Dove.") I'm only a casual _Trek_ fan, but I've tried to make something halfway readable out of this; so be warned in case it's not up to the usual _Trek_ standard. (BTW: pay attention to the dates on which this takes place; they are important to the few little "in-jokes" I've dropped through the story.)

* * *

_§ § § -- December 30, 1981

Sixteen-year-old Leslie Hamilton, Roarke's ward for almost three years now, found herself drawn more and more into his mysterious world of fantasy-granting. By now Roarke had put her in charge of choosing which fantasies to grant each weekend, so that she found herself reading fantasy-request letters that covered every inch of the spectrum from the sublime to the ridiculous. Though she had spent nearly all her non-school time since her initial arrival on Fantasy Island watching Roarke go through stacks of letters every week, she had not been assigned to this little job till now because his criteria were fairly complicated. However, Roarke had told her, "Trust your instincts, Leslie. If you feel a fantasy should be granted, then by all means, act accordingly." Under his supervision, she was gradually gaining more confidence in her work for him.

Late one morning during Christmas vacation, Leslie and some of her friends gathered on the generous front porch of the main house and chatted. Eventually the topic turned from the reopening of school to the fact that Lauren's birthday was the first Saturday in February, and she was clearly reluctant to make a big deal out of it. "Maybe this one'll be quiet," Lauren remarked. "I'm not so hot on birthdays anymore."

"What're you, feeling old?" Maureen snorted playfully. "You're turning only 17—that's kind of young to be worrying about how old you are."

"Don't be such a killjoy," Myeko added. "Have a bash and celebrate the occasion! At least you won't have to be in school on your birthday this year."

The girls laughed. "That's true," Lauren admitted. "Maybe that's reason enough to throw a party. So what're you giving me for my birthday?"

"That's supposed to be a secret," Michiko chided with a grin.

At that moment Leslie knew exactly what she could do for Lauren, and grinned to herself. It would need Roarke's approval, but she was pretty sure she could get it. "What's with you, Leslie?" Myeko's voice broke into her reverie.

"Oh, nothing much," Leslie replied airily.

"Oh, horse hockey," Myeko scoffed. She was a cute, bouncy girl of Japanese descent, her straight jet-black hair styled in the Dorothy Hamill wedge cut, and had a very outgoing personality. "I can tell by that smile that you're planning something. Don't tell me, you're going to turn Lauren into a toad for her birthday."

They all laughed again. "Not quite," Leslie said. "But if I say anything, I might jinx my chances of being able to do this. If you have a party, Lauren, I promise you won't be sorry you did."

"Geez, what'd you do, buy me a car or something?" Lauren asked facetiously.

Leslie grinned. "No, this is even better. But look, if you do throw a party, you better make it on Friday afternoon. That way I can give you your present over the weekend."

Lauren nodded finally, clearly too intrigued to resist. "Okay, it's a deal. But this better be good."

‡ ‡ ‡

When she broached her idea to Roarke, she felt as though the fate of the world hinged on his reply. "Mr. Roarke…I'd like to grant a fantasy for Lauren, for her birthday."

Roarke stared at her in amazement. "Indeed! What sort of fantasy do you propose to fulfill?"

Leslie blushed. "Well, of course, I mean, with your help. I just wanted to do something nice for her on her birthday. It's on February 6, and she's going to have a party the afternoon before, so I'd be able to explain it to her then. She's a big _Star Trek_ fan, Mr. Roarke, and I thought she'd enjoy becoming a part of the _Trek_ universe for a weekend."

"Ah, I see," Roarke replied, his dark eyes warming as he regarded her. "That's a very generous thought, Leslie. But you've been here long enough by now to know that every fantasy contains a certain element of danger. Did you think this through carefully before you came to me with your request, or was it merely a spur-of-the-moment idea?"

Leslie frowned a little, brought up short by this question. "Well," she said at some length, "I was thinking she could be a background character actually. You know…maybe as a, uh, botanist, or an assistant to Dr. McCoy, or something… "

Amusement crept into Roarke's expression. "But that might not be very exciting for her," he said.

"I don't think she'd care," Leslie insisted. "I mean, if she just got to be part of the _Trek_ universe, I think she'd be thrilled to death. It would be a terrific adventure for her."

Roarke cleared his throat. "Lauren is underage," he told her, "and is not requesting this fantasy on her own behalf, so I suggest you speak to her parents and ask their permission for you to send their daughter off into something totally unknown."

"It's not totally unknown," Leslie protested. "She knows all the episodes backwards and forwards."

"You _will_ ask permission, Leslie Susan," Roarke said firmly, in a voice that Leslie had learned brooked no argument whatsoever. "Surely you understand by this time that fantasies have a way of taking on lives of their own, and progressing in directions completely unimagined by their owners. You'll have no control over what happens to Lauren once you send her into that universe. After all, it will be real life while it's happening—not a script that she has probably memorized." Suddenly he smiled then, surprising her completely. "Trust me, child, she would never want that. It would be far too boring."

Leslie laughed. "Well, you've got me there. I guess you're right, Mr. Roarke. Okay, I'll check with Lauren's mom and dad. If they say it's okay, will you help me do it?"

"Very well," Roarke agreed finally. "As long as you have the McCormicks' permission, I will help you."

‡ ‡ ‡

Getting Lauren's parents' permission was a project in itself. Leslie had to wait for an evening when she knew Lauren would be out babysitting before she called Lauren's parents and explained what she wanted to do for her friend's birthday. At first the McCormicks were startled and skeptical; but when they realized that Roarke would be supervising the whole thing and that it was a gift Leslie wanted to give Lauren, they finally gave their consent. Roarke told Leslie it had to be written permission; he never granted any fantasy without some kind of written confirmation. For most fantasizers, this consisted of the request letters they wrote to Roarke. In this case, Roarke had a simple document drawn up, and Leslie took it over herself so the McCormicks could sign it.

With that detail taken care of, Roarke put Leslie onto doing research for the fantasy. Mostly this consisted of watching _Star Trek_ reruns, which Leslie had never seen before. It didn't take her long to get to know the main characters in the TV series, and by the time school started again she felt acquainted enough with the program to talk with Lauren about it a bit.

That puzzled her other friends. Camille put it most bluntly: "Leslie, for crying out loud, what're you encouraging her for? Give my cousin the least little chance and she'll talk about _Star Trek_ till you want to go back in time and murder Gene Roddenberry before he ever thought the thing up."

"Oh, stop it, Camille," said Michiko, the most good-natured of all the girls and often the peacemaker. "I'm sure Lauren's thrilled someone's showing some interest in her favorite show. None of the rest of us ever wants to talk about it, so let her enjoy Leslie's curiosity."

"But why is she curious in the first place?" Maureen asked. "That's the real question here."

"Yeah, Leslie," Myeko said, "what's the deal?"

Leslie glanced at her friends, wishing she had Roarke's smooth ability to evade such probing questions. "I really can't talk about it," she finally said lamely, knowing they wouldn't buy it.

"Oh, pul-eeeeeeze," Camille groaned. "What is it, classified info or something? Give me a break!"

"Enough is enough," Michiko broke in, clearly seeing Leslie's discomfort. "Leave her alone. You know she helps Mr. Roarke with the fantasies sometimes—maybe that's what it's all about. Everyone on the island knows Mr. Roarke never talks about other people's private business. So stop trying to put Leslie on the spot, Camille, all right?" Leslie was grateful for her friend's defense; Michiko had been the first girl in school to make friendly overtures on Leslie's first day of school after coming to the island to live, and Leslie had grown to think of Michiko as a dear friend. Michiko was the most even-tempered person she'd ever known, and it was difficult to get her angry; but Camille, with her unconsciously abrasive personality, succeeded in irking Michiko surprisingly often.

Camille snorted. "So you think Mr. Roarke's gonna grant somebody's _Star Trek_ fantasy, huh?" She rolled her eyes, wordlessly expressing her opinion of that idea.

_If you only knew,_ Leslie thought. She sometimes wondered why she hung out with Camille. The other girl could be nice when she worked at it, but too often she didn't. Leslie wished it were somehow possible to speed up time so that Lauren's birthday would come sooner; it was becoming increasingly difficult to keep her secret.


	2. Chapter 2

§ § § -- February 5, 1982

Lauren held her party on the Friday afternoon immediately prior to her birthday, as promised; the festivities were scheduled to begin at 4. The party was being held in the McCormick backyard; along with Camille, Leslie, Michiko, Myeko, Frida and Maureen, Lauren's parents and younger brother and sister were party guests as well. Since Lauren and Camille were cousins, Camille's parents and older brother came too.

When Leslie was fairly sure no one was looking, she slipped a slim envelope between two gifts in the stack that rested atop a varnished redwood picnic table. She'd felt a little conspicuous because everyone else had brought colorfully wrapped packages; but no one had said anything, even though Camille had given her a suspicious look when she'd seen Leslie arrive apparently empty-handed.

The party went along in the usual manner of birthday parties, until it was time to open presents. Lauren had worked through about half the stack before she came across Leslie's lonely little card. "This one's from Leslie," she announced for the benefit of all the guests, and glanced uncertainly once at the next gift in the pile before turning the card over and peeling away the flap.

Camille said, "Didn't see a present in there, did you, cuz?"

"Just the card," murmured Lauren, pulling said card out of the envelope. Leslie noticed Camille's mother and father both eyeing their daughter with disapproving frowns, and found herself stifling a satisfied smile. Camille really got on her nerves sometimes, and it was nice to see her squelched every so often.

Then Lauren let out a shriek, catching everyone's startled attention. "What's the matter?" asked someone.

"Oh my God, you'll never believe this," Lauren cried. "Leslie's giving me a fantasy for my birthday!"

Camille's face went slack with shock, and everyone else started babbling. Leslie felt herself turn red. She had hoped Lauren would like her present, but she really wasn't interested in all this extra attention. Fortunately Myeko bellowed over all the other voices, "So what _is_ your fantasy anyway, Lauren?"

Most of the chatter died and Lauren looked around with a sheepish expression on her features. "Well, I haven't really thought about it," she said. "That doesn't matter though—Leslie thought of it for me. It says here that I can be part of the _Star Trek_ universe, as if it were real life."

There was more chatter, but as usual, Camille got the last word. "I sure hope you don't wind up wearing a red shirt," she said, and Leslie squinted at her, puzzled. What was that supposed to mean?

§ § § -- February 6, 1982

As arranged, Lauren arrived at the main house at precisely ten o'clock the next morning, escorted by Julie, who promptly left to get their other guests settled into their accommodations. Leslie let Lauren in and both girls sat down, eager to find out the details. Roarke had done most of the preparations for the fantasy, so Leslie had as little idea as Lauren of what lay in store. "Good morning, Lauren, and happy birthday," Roarke greeted her warmly. "Are you ready for your fantasy?"

Lauren hunched her shoulders and grinned, face slowly reddening. "I guess so, Mr. Roarke," she said. "So, am I really gonna be on the _Enterprise_?"

Roarke nodded. "Yes," he said, "at least temporarily, as a cadet." He saw Lauren's taken-aback expression and inquired, "Well, now, at your age, you could hardly expect to be anything other than a cadet, could you?"

Lauren considered this at some length, and finally smiled a little. "I guess not," she conceded a bit reluctantly. "It's true, I'm only seventeen…at least, I was as of six forty-two this morning." Roarke, Tattoo and Leslie chuckled. "If you want to know the truth," Lauren added, "I'm really even too young to be a cadet. I just hope nobody else notices…well, at least not much."

Roarke smiled. "This is your fantasy, Lauren," he reminded her, "and your birthday gift; so rules can be bent—within reason, of course. You'll be sharing quarters with three other cadets."

"What kind of assignment will I have?" Lauren asked.

"Surely," Roarke said as if in disbelief, "you don't want to spoil the surprise of learning your assignment from none other than Captain James T. Kirk himself?" Lauren shook her head, turning red again, and Roarke sat back in his chair. His expression was perfectly serious, but Leslie could see the hint of a twinkle in his dark eyes. "Very well then," Roarke said. "Leslie, since you are the one who is granting Lauren her fantasy, I suggest you get her started."

"Oh," Leslie gulped. Up till now, except for choosing and scheduling the fantasies, Roarke had trusted her only with go-fer duties, and she had never even so much as helped to do research. She had seen Roarke play the occasional role in a fantasy, revealing his true identity only at the very end, and had a secret wish to do that herself; but Roarke seemed to think she was nowhere near ready for such a responsibility. When she had asked if she could be part of Lauren's fantasy, Roarke had refused, explaining in the face of her disappointment that Lauren was likely to recognize Leslie, even if she were in disguise, and the realism of the fantasy would thus be destroyed. Leslie hadn't quite understood this, but she had accepted it anyway. She was still in awe of her guardian and didn't have the temerity to press the issue. Now she stared at him. "You mean you want me to send her off?"

"Of course," Roarke said. "I trust you know what to do."

"But which door do I…?" Leslie began.

Tattoo turned his head to hide his amused grin, and Roarke's gaze grew mildly stern. "Leslie Susan, have you forgotten everything you've learned so far? I thought you were more observant than that."

Leslie's face grew hot with embarrassment. "N-no, I didn't forget," she said and stood up abruptly. She'd absorbed quite a lot over time; but she was so nervous at being appointed to get Lauren's fantasy started that her mind seemed to have gone completely blank. There was one room, just off the study, that often served as a time-travel portal; it was to this door that Leslie led her friend, opening it for her and ushering her inside. She was frankly rather relieved to close it behind her, shutting out Roarke and Tattoo so that they couldn't see her in case she made another stupid mistake.

"Wow," she heard Lauren exclaim, and turned away from the door to see her friend staring at a dressmaker's form wearing a bland, beige-colored uniform that consisted of a tunic and slacks. On a table beside the form lay something that looked like a ray gun and a sort of miniature walkie-talkie device. "Is that my uniform? And gosh, I even get a phaser and a communicator?" She stared at Leslie with something like awe. "This has gotta be the _best_ birthday present I ever got in my life."

Leslie grinned. "Glad you like it. Okay, first of all, you have to change into the uniform."

Lauren reached for the uniform, then paused to stare at it. "It looks like it came from _Star Trek: The Motion Picture_, not the original series."

"Mr. Roarke said your fantasy is taking place exactly three hundred years in the future," Leslie told her, "so that means you're going to the year 2282. I remember hearing about the movie, and I guess that was supposed to be 2279…so you get the new uniform."

"I liked the old ones better," Lauren admitted frankly. "Oh well…at least I don't have to wear a red shirt." Leslie stared at her uncomprehendingly while Lauren, unaware, removed her own clothing and began to don the uniform. "Are there boots, too?" Lauren asked.

"Under the table," said Leslie. "What's all this stuff about red shirts?"

"Red shirts are security people," Lauren grunted, tugging the boots on as she spoke. "Geez, these things are really hard to get on. Are you sure they fit?" At that point the second boot slid snugly onto her foot, and she stood up straight, scooping up the phaser and communicator. "Okay, I'm ready!"

Leslie wanted to press her regarding the red-shirt issue, but she realized it would have to wait. She took a deep breath. "Okay," she said, "now you open that door over there, and walk through."

"Then what?" Lauren asked.

"You wait, that's what," Leslie said. "Good luck, Lauren. I sure hope you have a great time." She waited long enough to be sure Lauren went through the door, then retreated back to Roarke's study.

"How did you do?" Tattoo asked.

"Well, I got her started on her fantasy," Leslie told him. "I guess the rest is up to her."

"And so it is," said Roarke. "Don't worry, Leslie. You did fine. It's out of your hands now."


	3. Chapter 3

§ § § -- sometime in 2282

Lauren stepped into a black void and stopped short, afraid she would collide with something or someone. Very slowly, she stretched an arm out, hand extended and fingers splayed as widely as possible, wondering what she would encounter. But she felt nothing at all, and the silence was as heavy as the darkness.

Then she remembered something she must have seen in some _Trek_ episode and said loudly and clearly, "Lights." It was the magic word; her surroundings lit up and she realized she was in a starship cabin. There were four bunks, all empty at the moment.

She didn't remain the room's sole occupant for long. Behind her, the door (which she could have sworn she had just pulled shut by a knob) slid open with a familiar whooshing sound and someone walked right into her, all at once, before she had time to get out of the way. Staring up from the floor where she had landed in an ungraceful heap, she found herself eyeing another human female who appeared to be about her own age.

"Terribly sorry," the girl said, her voice carrying an accent that was British yet not British. "You're not hurt, are you? Mum always said I need to slow down and watch where I'm going."

"No, I'm fine," Lauren said, picking herself up and gathering her wits. "I guess you're one of my roommates. I'm Lauren McCormick."

"Kylie Garrison," replied the other girl. "Good to meet you. I'm from Canberra, what about you?"

"You mean…Australia?" Lauren ventured, and Kylie nodded. Impressed, Lauren stared at her.

"Wow," she said. "You're the first Australian I've ever met. I'm from Fantasy Island and mostly we get Americans. Canadians too, sometimes."

Kylie's reaction to this statement was identical to Lauren's of a moment ago. "No fooling! Fantasy Island? Always wanted to go there myself, it sounds lovely. Met anyone else yet?"

"No, you're the first one." Lauren crossed over to the bunks and sat down on one. "Do you know anything about our assignment?"

Kylie grinned. "Calling it an 'assignment' would be too good for it," she remarked. "The way I hear it, it's more of an experiment, and we're the guinea pigs. See, the _Enterprise_ is on its way to a small planet, Class M, uninhabited. One thousand beings from all over the quadrant are sharing this place to see if we can all get along. The catch is that we're all teenagers, or the equivalent thereof." Kylie took the bunk opposite Lauren and rested her elbows on her knees. "I think the geniuses who came up with this brainstorm had the idea that teenagers would adapt and adjust better than adults."

Lauren made a face. "Not if they're anything like my cousin Camille," she muttered. "All over the quadrant, you said? So does that mean we're getting Klingons and Romulans too?"

"That's the story," Kylie said. "This experiment's supposed to last a year. Of course, if anyone can't get along, or just gets homesick and wants his mum…or whatever passes for his mum…well, they can beam back up and head home. The ships stay in orbit a week after arrival to make sure we're all settled, and after they leave, there are twenty adults left behind on a supervisory basis, just to be sure things are going OK."

"And to report on our progress to whoever's in charge of this whole thing," Lauren added.

"Right," Kylie said. "Me, I dunno if I can make it a year. I don't even know why they picked me to do this thing. Some teacher of mine thought I was a good candidate, and I guess the people in charge agreed with her, so here I am. How'd you get here?"

Lauren cleared her throat loudly, trying to come up with an answer that sounded better than the real one. Finally she offered lamely, "I always wanted to do something like this." It was suitably vague, but not a lie, and it would have to do, she supposed.

Kylie chuckled. "Bored stupid on that lovely tropical paradise, were you? I s'pose I can see your point. Not much to do on a South Pacific island except lie on the beach and bake in the sun. I guess it must be pretty isolated and you were just dying to see the world. Can't say I blame you, except it's not quite the world you had in mind, I'm sure."

At that point the door whooshed open again and the girls were joined by two more companions. Lauren barely managed to keep from voicing her amazement, but couldn't seem to do anything about her staring. One of the girls was slender, very pretty, and completely bald; the other had a sleek cap of straight, blunt-cut black hair and gracefully pointed ears. Both were utterly expressionless, though they stared back at Lauren and Kylie just as avidly as Lauren and Kylie were staring at them.

At last Kylie said, "I take it you're our roomies. My name's Kylie Garrison, I'm from Australia on Earth."

The bald girl smiled in response and Lauren relaxed somewhat. "I am Inriya na'Khotorin of Delta. It is a pleasure to meet you."

"Likewise," Lauren croaked, amazed that her voice worked at all.

"I am T'Rala of Vulcan," the fourth girl said in a quiet, even voice. She was calm and composed; only her dark eyes, almost black, betrayed a hint of curiosity.

Lauren introduced herself and felt herself turning red when both Inriya and T'Rala gave her blank stares. "I have never heard of this place, Fantasy Island," Inriya said.

T'Rala said, "I have," thereby stunning Lauren. And with that, the Vulcan girl sat on the bunk beside Lauren, a couple of feet from her, regarding her with an openly curious expression now. "Perhaps you would be willing to enlighten me as to the purpose of the place you come from."

At a loss for words, Lauren stared at her for a moment. Kylie broke in, "She's trying to understand what Fantasy Island's all about, Lauren. Tell her."

Lauren blinked and composed herself. "Well…I sort of know the proprietor, Mr. Roarke. I guess he grants people their fantasies to help…fill a need. To give them a change of pace from their everyday lives. We sort of need that, us Earthers." She cleared her throat in embarrassment, sure that she would merely confuse T'Rala even further. "I guess that sounds pretty odd to you," she said apologetically. "But sometimes it's nice to do something you've always wanted to do. And with certain things, such as living out a dream you could never achieve otherwise, there's no way to do it except to come to Fantasy Island."

"And how does this…Mr. Roarke…bring these dreams to fruition?" T'Rala inquired, without so much as batting an eyelash. Lauren wondered crazily if she had been through Kohlinahr, but managed to refrain from blurting out such a gauche question.

"I don't know," Lauren admitted baldly. "Most people just say he must be magic. The whole island's supposed to be enchanted. I do know we have a lot of weird plants that can't be found anyplace else on Earth. As for the rest of it…I have no clue." She smiled sheepishly. "Sorry I can't be of more help."

T'Rala raised an eyebrow, reminding Lauren that she was on the 'Enterprise'. When would she get to meet Captain Kirk, Spock, Dr. McCoy, Scotty, Lt. Uhura, Sulu and Chekov?

"That was enlightening," Inriya said unexpectedly. "And very interesting. I would enjoy seeing your Fantasy Island someday." She smiled at Lauren. "Perhaps after our stay on Spirit is over, I shall come to visit."

"Spirit?" Lauren echoed foolishly.

"As in 'Spirit of Achievement'," Kylie supplied and rolled her eyes. "If you ask me, that's a pretty ambitious sentiment for a bunch of teenagers. That's the name those geniuses I mentioned before came up with for the planet we're going to."

"Are you not excited to be a part of this?" Inriya asked Kylie in a breathy voice. "This is a truly historical undertaking, and I am very proud to be one of the chosen ones."

Kylie shrugged. "I'm reserving judgment till we get there. So what happened to the blokes who were eating with us earlier? Did you drop 'em down a Jefferies tube? That Scott Halloran sure deserved it."

Before anyone could reply, the door whooshed open one more time and an unfamiliar face looked in on them. "Lights out, ladies," the female ensign said briskly. "Arrival at Spirit is scheduled for oh-nine-hundred tomorrow, so you'll need to be rested and refreshed for the initiation once we get dirtside. Good night."

Kylie, Lauren and Inriya echoed this sentiment; T'Rala nodded once, and the ensign retreated, letting the door shut her out of sight. "Time for some shut-eye," Kylie said. "Guess I can use it. I'm bushed."

Lauren had to agree with her. She was already overwhelmed, and her fantasy had barely started!


	4. Chapter 4

§ § § -- sometime in 2282

Lauren had been hoping for the experience of beaming down from the ship to the planet, but there were too many young people on board for that, as she discovered when she and her three roommates arrived in the shuttlecraft bay. _Enterprise_ was transporting at least a hundred teenagers, and due to the sheer numbers, everyone was going down by shuttlecraft, in shifts.

She kept watching the entrance, till Kylie finally noticed. "Looking for somebody?"

Lauren felt as though Kylie had caught her trying to peek into someone's bedroom window. "I just thought we'd get to see Captain Kirk and the others," she said sheepishly.

Kylie grinned. "I think we're getting the big sendoff from the captain himself," she said. "And fifty credits says it'll be a standard little speech about what a big responsibility we're expected to meet and how we, being the cream of the proverbial crop, should be able to carry it off without having to even think about it. And then, when he thinks nobody's looking, he'll probably turn to Mr. Spock or Dr. McCoy and say something to them about how he can't stand the idea of being assigned to babysit a bunch of greenhorns who've barely made cadet—there's just no action in that."

Lauren giggled. "Sounds like a pretty accurate character assessment to me!"

"Disrespectful, but accurate," Kylie concurred, and both girls broke into laughter. Lauren was glad she and Kylie had gotten together; she wished there were some way she could remain friends with the Aussie when her fantasy was over. For the moment, she hoped she and Kylie could continue to work together after they'd gone down to the planet.

After another few moments, Lauren's wish was answered: Captain Kirk, Mr. Spock, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Sulu all strode into the shuttlecraft bay, swiftly quieting the noisy chatter among the many teens in the group. Up till now, Lauren had tried to remind herself that, fantasy or not, these men were actually starship crew and not actors playing roles, no matter how much they might look like William Shatner, Leonard Nimoy, DeForest Kelley and George Takei. Now, however, the appearance of four of the seven most celebrated science-fiction characters ever created, in the flesh, was enough to persuade her to suspend the mundanity of her own life and throw herself wholeheartedly into the reality of the moment.

"Good morning, all," Kirk said, sounding exactly the way Lauren recalled from the original TV series. "You are the last group of young people to arrive at the Spirit of Achievement, as our ground-breaking experiment has been dubbed. Dr. McCoy and Mr. Sulu will be going down with you and will remain through the week while you get acclimated and find out if you have the moxie to see it through for the full year. You'll all report to the community hall and receive information and instructions from Commander Karin DeVanay." Kirk cleared his throat. "It's a big responsibility you're taking on, but I have complete faith in your abilities, because you're the best of the best—chosen from all over the quadrant. Now…get down there and make us and your home planets proud."

"Standard speech delivered as promised," Kylie whispered deadpan into Lauren's ear, and Lauren was hard-pressed to choke back her snickering.

As luck would have it, the two girls were standing within earshot of the four officers, since they had been among the last to get to the shuttlebay. Due to their proximity, they both clearly overheard when Kirk turned to McCoy and complained, "I feel like a glorified babysitter, Bones. I don't know what to do with a pack of teenagers. This ferryboating's driving me crazy. I can't wait to get out there and see some _real_ action."

"Count your blessings, Jim," McCoy suggested. "Once they're off the ship, that's the last you'll see of 'em. On the other hand, I have to hang out with them for the next week."

"It was my understanding," said Spock with his perpetual poker face, "that you have a daughter, Doctor. Was Joanna not an adolescent herself at one time?"

"Yeah," McCoy grumbled, "but I don't remember her being this…well, talkative."

Sulu smiled a little secretively. "Demora's the same way now," he commented to McCoy, startling Lauren. Did that mean Sulu had a daughter too? Why had it never been mentioned on the series? What if Roarke, and maybe Leslie as well, knew something nobody else did, including the people who were involved with _Star Trek_? Maybe she should ask Roarke, or Leslie, or whoever came around to check up on her in the course of her fantasy. She knew this would happen sooner or later; Leslie had told plenty of stories of her guardian's adventures with some of the fantasies he had brought to life.

"Let's load up the shuttles and get moving," Kirk called out just then, and the next hour or so was a controlled frenzy of departing and arriving shuttlecrafts as groups of teens were carried down to the planet. By dint of their position near the entry to the bay, Lauren and her three roommates were in one of the last three groups to be taken down to what proved to be a small but verdant planet.

Once on the surface, everyone made their way to a gymnasium-style building not too far from their landing site. Beyond this building stood row after featureless row of five-story buildings. "Blocks of flats, then?" Kylie asked dubiously, staring just as Lauren was doing.

"You mean apartment houses?" Lauren asked. "Looks like that to me too. This whole thing is starting to remind me of summer camp."

"I hate to think what kind of bunkmates we'll get," Kylie quipped.

"Now, now," said an avuncular voice, and they discovered Dr. McCoy strolling alongside them. "Don't forget, this is supposed to be an experiment in how to get along. You won't get too far in Starfleet if you can't handle dealing with folks from other worlds."

"I see your point, Doctor McCoy," Lauren said, "but we're teenagers. We can't help it."

McCoy loosed a hearty laugh. "So you are. I'll try to keep that in mind."

In a few more minutes all the new arrivals were standing inside the community hall, where there was a dais upon which stood a uniformed woman with short blonde hair. Once everyone was inside, she spoke. "Welcome, all. I'm Commander Karin DeVanay." The commander made a short speech about her role in this experiment, then began to announce names and room assignments. Lauren found she was to be in Building A, third floor, number 5. Kylie was in a completely different building.

Hovercars the size of school buses delivered the new arrivals to their destinations, and in another ten minutes Lauren found herself knocking on the door of her new home. There were to be five to an apartment, which would make for distinctly crowded conditions; but Lauren was very surprised and relieved to find familiar faces after all. Inriya na'Khotorin and T'Rala were two of her four roommates.

Inriya beamed at sight of Lauren. "Welcome to our humble abode! I am so pleased to see you here. Where is Kylie Garrison?"

"She's in Building D," Lauren said. "I guess we won't see her very often. Have our other roommates gotten here yet?"

Inriya's smile vanished instantly. "Oh yes, they are here," she said flatly and scowled. "They have already taken the larger bedroom, which leaves us crowded in the other smaller one. I do not mind sharing a room with you two, but there are more of us and therefore we three should have the larger room. Our roommates will not agree to an exchange, however."

"The purpose of this experiment is in part for us to learn to live with others," T'Rala reminded Inriya calmly. "It would be illogical to allow the issue of sleeping quarters to create discord within the first hour of our arrival."

Inriya rolled her eyes. "Only a Vulcan would try to get along with beings like that," she said sourly and headed for one end of the apartment. "Come along, Lauren, and see where we are to sleep."

Lauren hesitated. "T'Rala, just who _are_ our roommates, anyway?"

T'Rala inclined her head slightly. "Perhaps it is best to let them introduce themselves. Follow me." Lauren trailed the black-eyed Vulcan girl in Inriya's wake and stopped beside her in the doorway of a fairly large room containing a thoroughly motley assortment of furniture. Dominating all else was a large, ornate bed; there were several trunks, all with their lids open, and something that looked to Lauren like a futuristic audio tape player on some sort of rolling cart. In contrast, huddled in one corner of the room was a small shabby cot and a shapeless linen sack. Most interesting of all, however, were the respective owners of these items. On the cot huddled an emaciated girl with long pure-white hair, dressed in a faded gray tunic and with no shoes. Her counterpart on the ornate bed was fussing with a heap of multicolored silks; she was noticeably overweight and wore layers of richly decorated clothing in bright colors. Her long hair—an astounding kelly green—was piled atop her head in an elaborate style and held in place by something that looked like a tiara.

"May I introduce our fifth roommate, Lauren McCormick," T'Rala said.

The thin white-haired girl flicked a furtive glance in their direction and then returned her gaze to the floor. The girl on the bed looked up and raked both Lauren and T'Rala with a disdainful glare. "And what planet do you come from?"

"Earth," Lauren replied. She couldn't shake the feeling that something here was way off-kilter.

"Oh, an Earther," the girl on the bed said dismissively. "Then you, too, shall serve me."

Lauren gaped at her, wondering if she'd heard right. "Run that by me again?"

"She expects us to _serve_ her," spat Inriya from behind, where she had joined T'Rala and Lauren. "Our friend there playing with her toys has deigned to tell us that she is M'sis'tenk of Clanimid I, and the poor wretched being on the cot is Arzi of Clanimid II—her servant." Inriya's eyes sparked with rage. "The proper word, actually, is 'slave', and M'sis'tenk has announced that you and I and T'Rala, because we now live under the same roof with her, are also to be her slaves."

"You will address me as _Enderren_ M'sis'tenk," their green-haired roommate barked at her and then looked at Lauren with marginally less disgust. "In your language, I am Princess M'sis'tenk."

"Oh, great," Lauren muttered. "I've walked into a fairy tale gone rotten."


	5. Chapter 5

§ § § -- sometime in 2282

Fortunately for Lauren's and Inriya's peace of mind, M'sis'tenk's only royal edict so far had been to close the door of her room and keep out of her sight till she wanted them around again. T'Rala simply turned and walked away after that, but Lauren and Inriya were bound by their shared contempt for their roommate. "Couldn't we put in for a transfer?" Lauren wondered that evening, sitting on her own twin bed in the smaller room she was sharing with Inriya and T'Rala. "Nobody can live with a character like that."

"Of all the beings to be roommates to that so-called princess," Inriya lamented, "we have to be the chosen ones. Perhaps if we speak to Commander DeVanay…"

"I believe," said T'Rala then from her own twin bed, "that this experiment is intended to be a test of one's ability to get along with others. It is highly unlikely we will be allowed to petition for a different roommate. It has occurred to me, however, that we are surely not the only ones here who find themselves experiencing difficulties in their living arrangements."

"I wish Kylie could have been our roommate," Lauren admitted. "The four of us got along pretty well on the _Enterprise_. Even if Kylie does have to live with a bad apple, hers can't possibly match ours."

"Did you see that poor girl she calls her servant?" Inriya exclaimed, full of righteous wrath. "So thin I find it a wonder she can even stand on her own feet. Truly, T'Rala, even you must find it a moral outrage just to look at poor Arzi. I knew that system was corrupt, but to see first-foot evidence of it…"

"You mean 'first-_hand_' evidence," Lauren said and grinned a little. "But Inriya, how do you know so much about our, uh, friend in there? Have you met her before?"

Inriya shook her head. "No, but their system was the first we discovered when my people first developed space flight. Their star, Clanim, is only twelve light-years from ours. There are six planets in their system and it is the innermost two that support life. Clanimid I carries the dominant population. The government is on that world, along with all the wealthy inhabitants of the system. All others live on Clanimid II—there is a tiny middle class that is a sort of governmental outpost for supervision of the rest of the population, who are all poor laborers, farmers, merchants, all trying desperately to scratch a living out of the poor soil and resources of their world."

"Are they the same species?" Lauren asked. "On the surface at least, both Mrs. Stink and Arzi look humanoid, but I could see a lot of physical differences."

"Who is Mrs. Stink?" inquired T'Rala. The question sounded incongruous coming from her.

Lauren snickered. "I just created a new nickname for our royal roommate. Her name sounds like those two words in English, you have to admit that. Tell us more about them, Inriya."

"Yes, all Clanimids are humanoid, but there are cosmetic differences, as you can see. Lack of nutrition causes white hair in the Lesser Clanimids—that's how the people of Clanimid II are known. The green hair you see on Mrs. Stink is natural to all Clanimids, so if Arzi were allowed to eat properly, she would also have it. Anyhow, the whole master/servant arrangement began several centuries ago, when the Lesser Clanimids were looking for a way to better themselves. The Greater Clanimids were generous at first in hiring the Lesser ones as servants in their homes, because they believed the Lessers would take what they had earned back to their own planet and work to improve it. Instead, the Lessers remained on Clanimid I and tried to rise to prominence among the people there. This angered the Greater Clanimids, and over the years the system grew corrupted until now, all Greater Clanimids believe the Lesser Clanimids exist simply to be servants. In the beginning the servants were treated well; now there is almost no servant who is not better described as a slave. The abuse is horrible. This is the reason the Clanimids have been denied membership in the Federation. The Greaters simply refuse to allow change in the current system."

"Wonder if Captain Kirk could do something about it if he knew," Lauren mused, thinking of similar situations she had seen Kirk resolve on the TV series.

"The Prime Directive of Starfleet stands in his way," Inriya said. "Have you forgotten about that?"

"Well, we aren't Starfleet," Lauren retorted. "So who's to say we couldn't try?"

Inriya laughed without humor. "We? Convince a Greater Clanimid to change the soft life she leads? Lauren, my friend from the island of dreams, you must leave those dreams behind. You alone cannot change the universe." She jumped off the bed. "I have had enough talk of the Clanimids. My friend Somartu resides in Building C and I think I shall try to contact him." With that, she left the room.

"What do you think, T'Rala?" Lauren ventured.

T'Rala looked up from the book she was reading and focused on Lauren. "I suggest," she offered, "that you do not refer to the princess as 'Mrs. Stink' in her presence." So saying, she returned to her book.

For a moment, Lauren stared at her, wondered whether to laugh, and finally gave up, falling back onto her bed. First thing tomorrow, she was going to find Kylie and tell her the entire story.

‡ ‡ ‡

A full three days passed during which time Lauren grew very uneasy. No one, not even Roarke, had come to see how she was doing, and she was sure that by now they thought she was playing truant at school and her parents were probably drawing up plans to sue Roarke for not returning her from her fantasy.

The fantasy itself was not progressing very well. M'sis'tenk was more arrogant by the hour, it seemed; and no one, other than the self-styled princess herself, had yet heard Arzi utter a word. Lauren had not seen Kylie till late in the day after their arrival, and then had breathlessly poured out the story of the princess and her slave. Kylie had listened with great interest, then offered to send her Klingon roommate over to beat up M'sis'tenk and put everyone else, particularly Arzi, out of their misery. It was a sign of Lauren's state of mind that she had actually considered this suggestion.

Now it was mid-afternoon of Lauren's fourth day in her fantasy and she was on the verge of doing something drastic. It had been made clear to every last participant in the Spirit of Achievement experiment that they were all expected to pull their weight, do their share, contribute to the greater good, and a barrage of other clichés that had made Lauren's head hurt. It was obvious that M'sis'tenk had no intention of pulling her considerable weight; what was more, she refused to allow Arzi to do anything for anyone except her. Lauren was just about ready to snag a phaser from the first Starfleet crewperson she saw and put M'sis'tenk right out of existence. Never mind that it would probably put an ignominious end to her fantasy; the darn thing had gone on far too long anyway. So when Leslie appeared unexpectedly in the little kitchen that Lauren, Inriya and T'Rala shared, Lauren yelled, "Where've you _been_, Leslie Hamilton?? I could _kill_ you for not checking up on me before now! What took you so freakin' long?"

Leslie stared at her in amazement for a moment, then said, "What're you talking about? It's about ten on Sunday morning, you goof. How bad has it been that you think it's taken me ages to get here?"

"I've been here four days," Lauren informed her blackly. "You can't be serious that it's only Sunday morning. When I get back, they're going to haul me in for playing hooky from school."

Leslie stared some more, then frowned while her gaze shifted out of focus. "Maybe there's a glitch in the time travel," she murmured, half to herself. "If I'd known about that, I'd have asked Mr. Roarke before I came here." She came back to the here-and-now and studied her friend. "Well, other than that, how's the fantasy coming along?"

"There's loads to tell, so I hope you're planning to stay awhile," Lauren said, and with that related the story of meeting Kylie, Inriya and T'Rala, seeing some of the _Enterprise_ crew, and the last three disastrous days with Princess M'sis'tenk and her sorely overworked servant Arzi. "I keep trying to think of some way to fix that," she said. "Obviously Mrs. Stink won't listen to reason, so I thought maybe I could talk to Arzi and make her see that she doesn't have to live this way. That green-haired horror doesn't do anything around here. And it's not bad enough that she won't do her share, she won't let Arzi help us either, let alone let us try to help Arzi."

"Mrs. Stink!?" Leslie blurted and burst out laughing. "That's a good one! She really does sound like a stinker, judging from what you've told me. You mentioned a Commander DeVanay…have you tried talking to her about this lazy roommate of yours and her poor slave?"

"Kylie and I finally talked Inriya and T'Rala into coming with us to do that. T'Rala's been saying all along that the whole idea of this experiment is to get along with other cultures, and she came only under duress. It turned out to be a waste of time, because Commander DeVanay said the same thing. Supposedly, Dr. McCoy and Mr. Sulu are down here for a few more days, but I haven't seen a trace of them since we landed. Kylie offered to send her Klingon friend over to beat up old Stinkeroo, but I turned her down. Now I wish I'd told her to go ahead, and have her bring a phaser while she was at it."

Leslie giggled. "Well, at least you're not bored," she remarked and held up both hands as if in surrender when faced with Lauren's glare. "Okay, sorry. You know, I can see both sides—you wanting to help Arzi out of her slave's existence, and Starfleet trying to teach all you guys how to live peacefully. I guess you just have to do what feels right. And if it feels right to you that you should try setting Arzi free, then what's stopping you? Do you think Mrs. Stink will have you shot at sunrise if you just sit down and talk to Arzi? She might say she's a princess, but you and Inriya and T'Rala have already defied her by refusing to become her indentured servants. When you get right down to it, she can't make you do anything at all, and she can't actually punish you in any way. She might scream and yell a lot, but that's about it."

Lauren let Leslie's words sink in for a couple of minutes, and then slowly smiled. "You're right," she said softly. "Let her rant…I'm in just the right mood to yell back."

They heard knocking and then the sound of the door opening, and Kylie's voice called, "Lauren? Are you there? I've a problem and I don't know what to do."

Lauren leaned out the kitchen doorway. "Be right there," she said, and retreated back through the door—only to discover that she was alone in the room. Just like Roarke, Leslie had vanished, seemingly into thin air. "Just wait till I get back home," she muttered aloud. "I'll make her tell me how she did it."

"What was that?" Kylie asked, coming into the kitchen.

Lauren jerked to attention. "Nothing," she said. "Just thinking out loud. So what's the problem?"

"_Enterprise_ is being called away from the planet," Kylie said. "Seems that a band of Klingons is threatening to take over a couple of planets inhabited by blokes who call themselves Clanimids. And my friendly Klingon roommate Kah'gos wants to extend the battle to our lovely little experiment."


	6. Chapter 6

§ § § -- sometime in 2282

Lauren broke into giggles. "So let her," she said. "We could get rid of Princess Serve-Me-For-Life right now and Arzi's existence would improve instantly."

Kylie looked horrified. "You're actually serious!" she blurted.

Some small part of Lauren was horrified too, but living with the arrogant princess had pushed her into such a state of agitation that she couldn't quite think straight. She gave her head a couple of hard shakes and ran a hand through her hair. "Okay, okay, wait a minute," she mumbled. She looked pleadingly at Kylie. "Believe me, you don't know what it's been like around here. Mrs. Stink sends Arzi to do everything—and I mean _everything_—for her. She treats Arzi like a combination slave and pet, and she doesn't even let the poor girl talk to the rest of us. Inriya's the only one who's heard Arzi say anything, and that's only because she was the first one here and exchanged introductions with them both. I think I've seen Arzi watch us, just once or twice, as if she wanted to join us or at least help us out, but Mrs. Stink always screams at her to get in the bedroom and do something for her, and she takes off like someone was shooting at her. That lazy royal blob hasn't emerged from that room once since we got here, and I'd be willing to swear she hasn't even gotten out of bed. Arzi probably even has to go to the bathroom for her."

Kylie gaped at Lauren in amazement throughout this narrative, and the last line made her laugh. "All right, I suppose I see your gripe," she said. "But tell me…what's this princess of yours and her poor slave got to do with Kah'gos wanting to join her comrades in battle?"

"Oh yeah," Lauren said. "Princess M'sis'tenk and Arzi are both Clanimids."

Kylie's face cleared. "Aaahhhhh," she breathed. "Now I get ya. Okay, so these two Clanimids haven't done anything to advance the experiment, and you're looking for an excuse to get rid of 'em…but look, sending Kah'gos over here isn't the answer, Lauren. It's not exactly the spirit of cooperation and friendliness that Starfleet's been aiming to achieve."

"I'd feel a little more friendly toward Princess Blob if she'd cooperate," Lauren shot back, and Kylie snickered. "You said the other day you'd be willing to have Kah'gos come over and handle Mrs. Stink. What changed your mind?"

Kylie rolled her eyes. "There's a difference between joking around and being serious, Lauren."

Lauren sighed and shrugged. "Well, okay, so your Klingon friend is interested in participating in war. One little thing—I thought Klingons didn't allow their women to fight."

"We fight when called to glory," announced a brand-new voice. Lauren blinked at the girl standing at the open door. She was unmistakably Klingon, but Lauren was still accustomed to the ones she'd seen on the TV series. This Klingon looked like the ones from the film, with a high forehead lined with intricate-looking knobs and bumps, skin the color of a too-heavy suntan, and long, gleaming black hair carefully arranged into a fairly elaborate style. "I am Kah'gos," she told Lauren. "I am searching for Kylie Garrison."

"I'm here," Kylie said through a sigh. "What do you need me for?"

"I ask you to take me to Commander DeVanay," Kah'gos replied. "My father is aboard the ship that waits at the Clanimid system, and he wishes me to join him there."

"Clanimid…?" breathed a soft, timid voice. Lauren was thoroughly stunned to see that its owner was the heretofore mute Arzi. The pitifully thin young girl, still clad in her ragged gray tunic, stood in the middle of the apartment's common room and stared at Kah'gos with wide, frightened silver eyes. To Lauren, everything about the girl seemed to be in shades of gray; even her skin, which should have been the healthy carnation-pink of M'sis'tenk's, was so pale she appeared to have no color at all.

"Arzi," Lauren whispered, as if afraid the princess would overhear. "What about Mrs. …uh, the princess?"

"She sleeps," Arzi said softly, glancing at Lauren for a second before returning her fascinated gaze to the Klingon girl. "She naps for two of your hours and will not know I am here. Normally I sleep when she does, but I heard Mistress Kah'gos speaking of our worlds."

"There's a Klingon ship in your system," Lauren explained. "They want to take over both planets."

Arzi's face broke out into a huge, hopeful smile. "Perhaps you shall be our salvation, Mistress Kah'gos!"

Kah'gos, for her part, was gaping at Arzi with patent disgust. "You are a slave," she pronounced distastefully. "Slaves are weak and worthless in battle. Why would you welcome a takeover by what you know to be a hostile force?"

A strange light began to gleam in Arzi's eyes, but she was as soft-spoken as ever. "Opportunities," was all she would say.

At this point, Inriya and T'Rala emerged from the bedroom Lauren shared with them and stared in astonishment at the unfolding scene. T'Rala inquired of Kah'gos, with a slightly acerbic edge to her voice that Lauren didn't miss, "So you, as a participant in an experiment of goodwill, friendship and cooperation, condone this threat to Arzi's home system?"

To everyone else's surprise, Kah'gos actually looked embarrassed. "I have been called to join my father, whose ship awaits me in the Clanim star system."

"Who says you have to go?" Kylie asked. "Is your father the one who sent you here in the first place? If so, he's one seriously hypocritical bloke."

"This was my mother's idea," Kah'gos said. "I have four brothers who are already in the military, and Mother is peace-minded. She is a follower of Mara, the consort of Kang, and Mara teaches peace and tolerance between the Klingons and the Federation. Mother wished one of her children to learn these tenets, and as I am the only girl, she stood up to Father. Father was strongly opposed, but Mother has an iron will." Kah'gos glanced around at the group of girls. "Perhaps this is Father's way of teaching me _his_ ideas, away from Mother's influence."

"You seemed eager enough to go," Lauren remarked.

Kah'gos scowled. "I am Klingon," she said as if that explained everything.

"_Arzi!!!"_ screamed a voice from the larger bedroom, and everyone jumped, even Kah'gos. "Where are you? Who dares disturb my slumber?"

Poor Arzi immediately fled to the bedroom. "I am here, princess!"

"Bah!" spat Kah'gos. "Perhaps my father is right. Some worlds beg to be taken over."

M'sis'tenk filled the bedroom doorway with her brightly-colored bulk, to the great surprise of her cohabitants. Inriya inched away from her as if smelling something foul, and Kylie blinked in amazement at her first sight of the roommate she had up till now only heard about. Lauren eyed the Greater Clanimid and drawled, "Gee, you didn't have to get out of bed just because we have visitors." That drew laughter from Kylie and Inriya; were she not a Vulcan, T'Rala might have frowned in disapproval. Lauren could see it in her black eyes, but by now she was past caring. "M'sis'tenk, let me introduce you to our newest acquaintance, Kah'gos. It's too bad you two couldn't have been roommates, considering that Kah'gos's father's getting ready to claim Clanimid I and Clanimid II for the Klingons."

M'sis'tenk's florid face began to acquire a rather nauseating magenta hue. The princess's golden eyes narrowed in rage, and her entire body quivered, making Inriya back completely away from her to join the girls standing in the doorway. "You…_dare_…to take over…_my_ homeworld?" the princess growled. _"I_…shall not _allow_ it…do you _hear_ me, _Klingon?"_

Kah'gos eyed M'sis'tenk at length before observing, "You would appear to be in no shape to stop me, Clanimid, and I am not even armed."

M'sis'tenk bared pointed little teeth in a nasty grin. "I am," she replied, and from out of her voluminous silken garments she pulled something that appeared to be a phaser, but much smaller. It looked like a toy.

"What a flippin' coward you are!" Kylie exclaimed in disbelief. "Kah'gos just said she's not armed, and this is your response?"

"She carries a toy weapon," Kah'gos sneered. "Do all princesses on your soft little world play at bravery?"

The magenta blush on M'sis'tenk's face deepened, and before anyone else could react, she fired the tiny phaser right at Kah'gos. The Klingon girl vanished with a roar that sounded more outraged than anything else; the others stared in sheer shock. Only T'Rala closed her eyes briefly.

"How did she get that thing in here?" Lauren demanded. "Didn't Starfleet check to be sure nobody was carrying anything like that? Even us cadets had to leave our phasers on board ship!"

Kylie shook her head. "No," she muttered, "nobody was ever searched. You know, the spirit of cooperation and mutual trust and all that. Malarkey, eh, mate?" She raised her voice then and taunted, "Well, 'princess', who's next? You've started a killing spree already. Can't believe you won't off the rest of us just to keep us from calling Commander DeVanay and letting her know what you just did."

M'sis'tenk stood perfectly still, staring at her tiny weapon in wonder. "This 'toy' really works," she said. Having ascertained that, she pointed it directly at Kylie. "Speak more words, then, Earther, so that you may empty your mind before I end your life. I thank you for the reminder about the authorities."

Kylie glanced back at Lauren, then grinned. "Surprises me you don't have your poor slave shooting us for ya, ya fat slob. I hear you've probably never done anything much for yourself in your entire worthless life, so this must feel like strenuous exercise to you. Aren't you gettin' tired already, just standing there holding up your arm? You must be just dyin' to hand that little popgun over to Arzi and let her do your dirty work."

At that moment M'sis'tenk squeezed her trigger and another beam lanced out, disintegrating Kylie and wringing a scream from Inriya. Lauren saw red.

"You just killed my friend!" she shouted. "You're a murderer, you know that? Who ever invited an arrogant pain in the butt like you onto this planet? How did you ever get into this experiment? Pull some strings? Did your daddy the king threaten to make some Starfleet heads roll if his precious daughter wasn't part of the noble project? You're not worth the dirt you walk on, Mrs. Stink!" She flung the nickname at the princess, who was staring at Lauren in disbelief.

"You called me…" began the Clanimid, now turning purple.

Several things happened at once, so quickly Lauren barely had time to register it all. T'Rala, unnoticed till now, reached out for the juncture of the princess' neck and shoulder; at the same moment, Arzi slid a stick-thin arm around M'sis'tenk and tweaked the little phaser from her grasp. Inriya blurted out something in Deltan; M'sis'tenk turned when she felt T'Rala's fingers close onto her neck; Arzi lifted the phaser and shot the princess at point-blank range. T'Rala yanked her hand back, but not in time to keep from being singed by the phaser shot that consumed M'sis'tenk.

"Oh my God," Lauren mumbled in the heavy silence that followed. The phaser fell from Arzi's grip. T'Rala cradled her senseless right hand, unable to pull her usual Vulcan mask over the pain that radiated from her face. Inriya looked very pale, and her eyes were huge and bright.

"I am free," Arzi said very softly. "I am finally free."

"How could you…where did you…you were so…" Inriya babbled.

Arzi smiled. "You can't imagine how many years I dreamed of doing that," she said. "It was so easy to dispatch her once I had the phaser. The Klingon was correct—M'sis'tenk lived a very soft and undemanding life. She believed she had all the spirit beaten from me, and I let her think so in order to lull her into, what do you call it…a false sense of security."

"But you have killed a Greater Clanimid," Inriya cried. "You cannot expect to return home except to face execution, Arzi."

Arzi nodded. "I know that," she replied steadily. "But it was my only hope of ever going home. I would have been M'sis'tenk's slave for life. Yes, I will certainly die for having killed her, but I will die free." She turned to T'Rala. "I apologize for having injured you, T'Rala. Please let me tend to your hand."

T'Rala regarded Arzi with unreadable black eyes; her mask of control was back. "Yes, I should be grateful for your assistance, Arzi," she agreed.

"Gratitude is an emotion," Lauren said, unable to resist. She must have watched Kirk and McCoy tease Spock once too often, she thought.

T'Rala shifted her gaze to Lauren and raised an eyebrow. "Indeed it is."


	7. Chapter 7

§ § § -- sometime in 2282

Very early the following morning, Lauren woke abruptly. She was still upset over Kylie's death and worried about Arzi's fate; she had dreamed vaguely of ending Arzi's servitude, but had never expected it to happen the way it had. She slipped out of bed and made her way to the kitchen, gasping when the light came on just as she walked in.

"Hi," said Leslie, looking sheepish.

Lauren stared at her. "What're you doing here? And at this time of night?"

Leslie grinned. "I know it's nuts, but Mr. Roarke sent me. He says your fantasy is over."

"But the others are gonna think I just walked off and disappeared," Lauren protested. "Can I at least leave them a note? I'll just tell them I don't think I can hack it and I'm heading home."

"Sure, go ahead," Leslie agreed. She watched while Lauren wrote on a small pad on the table, then asked, "So what happened?"

"You mean you don't know?" Lauren bantered, then realized from Leslie's expression that she wasn't kidding. "Oh, well…remember when I talked about wanting to set Arzi free? She did it herself."

Leslie blinked. "Get out of here. I can't wait to hear this one."

Lauren finished her note and glanced around. "I'm gonna miss my friends here, especially Kylie. I wish there were some way I could've prevented what happened to her. Before she died, I wanted to stay in touch with her. If it hadn't been for the nutball princess…"

"So tell me about it," Leslie urged, leading Lauren to the apartment door and pulling it open. They stepped through into the same little room where Lauren had come to begin her fantasy. Leslie shut the door and gestured at the table where Lauren's own clothes still lay. "Go ahead and change. I'll listen while you talk."

Lauren had so much story to tell that she was still at it when she and Leslie emerged into the elegant study Roarke used as his office. Roarke and Tattoo were both going over some papers; they looked up and stared at the girls. When Lauren finally finished, Roarke said in amusement, "I trust your fantasy was enjoyable, Lauren."

She blinked and focused on him. "Oh, hi, Mr. Roarke. I did have a good time, but I've got some questions for you. Number one…Leslie said something about a time-travel glitch when I saw her before. I always thought two days in another world was two days here, so how come it's only Sunday here but I was in _Star Trek_ for five days?"

"A…minor malfunction," Roarke replied evasively. "You have other questions?"

Lauren looked at Leslie, but Leslie simply shrugged, and Lauren gave up and went on to her next query. "I made a really good friend, Kylie Garrison. I was planning to ask if there was some way I could have stayed in touch with her, but she died, so I guess I can't. Maybe it wouldn't have been possible even if she hadn't, since she's in the future and all…"

Roarke's voice softened with sympathy. "I am terribly sorry you experienced the loss of your friend, Lauren."

"Thanks." Lauren heaved a deep sigh, then remembered something else. "What about Arzi? She was—"

"Mr. Roarke already knows all about it," Leslie broke in.

"Well, she disintegrated the princess with a phaser," Lauren said, feeling a little silly, especially when Tattoo gave her a bewildered look. "Anyway, I guess the punishment for that is execution on her world. I wanted to bring her back here with me, and I was right on the edge of suggesting it when she said that otherwise she'd have been Mrs. Stink's slave for life, and she knew she was going to die, but she'd be dying a free person. That made me think. It would have been nice if we could have persuaded Mrs. Stink to change her outlook, but I guess we can't force other people to see things the way we do."

"Very wise, Lauren," Roarke said with a smile.

Tattoo looked more bewildered than ever. "Who's Mrs. Stink?"

Leslie and Lauren both instantly burst out laughing, and Roarke cleared his throat, not quite able to disguise his own chuckling. "Perhaps you had better take Lauren home, Leslie," he suggested. "We must be up early tomorrow morning to see the guests off before you leave for school."

§ § § -- February 8, 1982

Roarke, Tattoo, Julie and Leslie were all on hand to see their guests off very early Monday morning. The last to step from an arriving car was an attractive teenage girl, ginger-colored hair pulled tidily back in a French braid, green eyes sparkling, a few freckles scattered across her nose and cheeks. Her parents alighted behind her. "So…I assume you are ready to return to your quiet life in Canberra, Ms. Garrison?" Roarke asked.

Kylie Garrison grinned. "I think so, Mr. Roarke. Y'know, I was kind of skeptical about your abilities, but I have to hand it to you…you definitely deliver what you promise. Thanks so much—I always did wonder what it would feel like to get phasered, and now I know. I thought since I wasn't wearing a red shirt, it wouldn't happen." Everyone laughed.

"I am delighted to be of service," Roarke said, "even with such an unorthodox request."

"We aim to please," Tattoo said and smiled with perfect poise.

"I sort of wish I could have stayed in touch with this girl I met," Kylie began hesitantly. "I know it's not possible, but she was a lot of fun to be around…"

"Say no more," Leslie broke in. "It just so happens that Lauren McCormick is one of my friends, and she was having a fantasy too, as a birthday gift. She said the same thing about you. Here's her address—I think she'd be thrilled to get a letter from you." She handed Kylie a slip of paper.

Kylie's eyes widened. "Wow, a bonus on my fantasy! Thanks again, all of you." And with that, she and her waving parents headed for the dock to board the plane.

"A nice touch, Leslie," Roarke complimented her.

"Thanks," Leslie replied and grinned, then remembered something and turned fully on her guardian. "Mr. Roarke, I keep hearing references to red shirts. What on earth is that supposed to mean? Lauren said that security people on the TV series wear them, but that didn't explain anything at all to me."

Julie laughed. "Didn't you ever pay any attention to all those _Trek_ episodes you were watching? Security people are always getting bumped off. It's kind of an in-joke among _Trek_ fans. Watch some more episodes and keep your eyes on the guys in the red shirts. They'll bite the dust just about every time."

Leslie stared at her. "That's really morbid, Julie."

"Hey, if you don't believe me, ask Lauren." Julie grinned. "Got to head for home and make sure Frida gets to school okay. See you later this afternoon, uncle and Tattoo. Have a good day in school, Leslie."

"And that Australian girl _wanted_ to get phasered," Leslie mumbled, thoroughly perplexed. "We sure get some oddballs, don't we, Mr. Roarke?"

Roarke eyed her in disapproval and shook his head. "My dear Leslie, for shame. You really must learn to practice tolerance. You'd better hurry home and change your clothes before you're late for school."

When she was gone, Tattoo said, "I still want her and Lauren to explain about Mrs. Stink." Roarke shook his head, no longer able to control his amusement, and began to laugh heartily.

* * *

_There is a sequel to this, but I won't post it unless I get feedback that indicates folks want to read it. I would really appreciate reviews, so please do me a favor and let me know what you think—and if you're feeling so inclined, check out my other work, under both my account names. Thanks to all!_


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